


Show Me Where It Hurts

by Yashitsu



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Crying, Cunnilingus, Dubious Consent, Knives, M/M, Marking, Masochism, Sadism, Trans Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Vaginal Fingering, a little praise kink because jonelias, wound fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:55:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24173959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yashitsu/pseuds/Yashitsu
Summary: Jon comes to Elias for help after being stabbed. Elias indulges in the opportunity to experience his Archivist's distress up close.
Relationships: Elias Bouchard/Jonathan Sims
Comments: 9
Kudos: 172





	Show Me Where It Hurts

**Author's Note:**

> Please respect my boundaries by not reading this fic if you are under 18.
> 
> This fic uses the terms "cock" and "cunt" for trans male anatomy. Trypophobia warning for some focus on Jon's scars.

The realization that Jon is walking—shambling, really—to Elias' office hits him hard and sudden. It's strange, since Elias knows that Jon doesn't _want_ to be Seen by him. Usually Jon tries, at least while he's not distracted by anything, to avoid Elias' gaze, or at least to not put out a beacon like this one. And then Elias realizes that the feeling is so sharp because Jon actually _reached out to him_ this time, and he is _elated_. Jon is struggling to walk and bleeding all over the carpet but Elias lets him suffer, waiting until Jon actually calls his name out loud to open the door to his office. He pretends to be surprised at the sight of Jon clutching his bleeding side and leaning on the wall for support. Jon looks at him with fury in his eyes.

“Don’t act like you just now saw this,” he says, and Elias smiles. Jon’s glare sharpens, but Elias ignores it, instead asking,

“What happened, Jon?” Jon scoffs in response.

“Shouldn’t you already _know?_ ” Despite his derisive tone, Jon lets Elias help him walk into his office, leading him over to the couch on one side of the room. Jon sits down with a pained groan.

“I am afraid I can’t dedicate _all_ my time to keeping an eye on you, Jon,” Elias says. Jon closes his eyes and lets out a long sigh, wincing at the movement it causes in his abdomen. He opens his eyes again to look at Elias as he speaks.

“I was stabbed. A man tried to mug me while I was walking home. It was stupid, maybe, but I resisted, and...” Jon motions to the huge spot on his shirt that’s saturated with blood.

“And then you came to me instead of going to hospital,” Elias says.

“I... frankly I wasn’t sure a hospital could help... whatever I am now,” Jon admits quietly.

“Jon,” Elias says, his tone firm, yet softer than usual, laced with false concern, hiding his excitement. “I really hope that you wouldn’t have forgone medical treatment until you could get back to me if you’d been injured somewhere further from the Institute. Let me see that wound.” Elias kneels next to the couch and reaches for the top button of Jon’s shirt, but Jon pushes his hands away.

“That’s not necessary, I can just lift it,” Jon says.

“I can get a much better look at the wound if you take it off. Removing the fabric from it will hurt less this way too,” Elias replies.

“Fine,” Jon huffs, “But I can do it myself.”

Elias watches raptly as Jon removes his shirt, revealing parts of Jon he rarely gets to see. The Corruption has left his skin looking like the night sky, dotted with light-colored spots. There’s an area of dense scars where the worms were especially numerous winding down his torso like the Milky Way. Elias wants to reach out and touch them, connect each one with his fingertips. Not yet. Someday he will have everything he wants from his Archivist, but not tonight, not while Jon is still skittish and wary.

Jon makes a pained little noise as he quickly peels his blood-soaked shirt away from his wound, allowing Elias to get a proper look at it. It’s certainly a stab wound, though it’s hard to tell much more with the blood surrounding it. Elias tells Jon to wait where he is for a moment and fetches the first aid kit he keeps in his office. Jon eyes it warily as Elias returns to kneeling in front of him.

“You think that will be sufficient?” Jon asks.

“It’s better than nothing,” Elias says, rolling up his sleeves before pulling out a disinfecting wipe. He tries to be gentle as he cleans up the blood as best he can, but Jon still flinches and gasps when Elias touches the edges of the wound. It takes effort for Elias to suppress the urge to smile. Elias slides his thumb across the wound, pressing down just hard enough to hear Jon whine. It comes away bloody.

“Lie down, Jon,” Elias says.

“What? Why?” Jon asks, clearly distrustful.

“It will be easier for me to inspect your injury this way. And on the off chance that you faint, you won’t injure yourself further,” Elias replies.

“All right,” Jon says, still sounding nervous. Elias watches as Jon carefully shifts himself until he’s lying on his back, letting out little groans of pain as he moves.

“Are you comfortable?” Elias asks. Jon makes a sound of offense.

“Oh, certainly, outside of the stab wound and all,” he says. Elias resists the urge to laugh. Instead, he traces a finger along the hole in Jon’s abdomen, causing Jon to flinch and breathe more quickly. It’s still bleeding slowly, but it’s clearly already started to heal. It’s not close to life-threatening, not for the Archivist. Really, this is a waste of both of their time. Jon needs to be preparing for the Unknowing, not being distracted by petty criminals with knives. For all Elias can tell, the person who did this to Jon was entirely ordinary. Elias feels an odd surge of anger at that thought. This mark was not part of his plan. He hadn’t allowed this. His Archivist isn’t supposed to be receiving wounds from just anyone. He’s better than that. Elias decides to make something out of this otherwise pointless detour.

Jon gasps when Elias puts fingers on either side of the wound and spreads it open. Jon’s hands fly to Elias’ trying to push him away, but Elias doesn’t budge.

“How deep were you stabbed, do you think?” Elias says as Jon clings to his wrist, his bony fingers digging in so hard Elias’ arm aches.

“How would I know!?” Jon grits out.

“I’ll have to check for internal damage,” Elias says.

“Elias, wait—“ Jon cuts himself off with a scream as Elias slides a finger into the wound. Surprisingly, it goes in to the first knuckle with little resistance. The wound is deep and rather wide already. Elias presses in further as Jon lets out agonized little gasps, hardly able to breathe through the pain. Elias places his free hand on Jon’s shoulder, pushing him firmly back down into the couch whenever he tries to sit up. Jon struggles, almost certainly hurting himself more as he does, and Elias ends up having to climb on top of Jon to keep his legs still, pinning down Jon’s smaller frame with his own.

“Elias,” Jon begs, fear evident in his voice, “Elias, stop.”

“I have to make sure the knife didn’t hit anything important, Jon,” Elias says. His finger is all the way inside now, and he can tell all of Jon’s organs are indeed intact by the angle of the wound. Still, he moves his finger around, just to feel the way Jon’s muscles spasm around it. Tears are forming in Jon’s eyes, and Elias realizes he’s never actually seen his Archivist cry in person before. Oh, this will be lovely.

“Please,” Jon says, his voice weak and shaking, “it _hurts._ ”

“I know, Jon,” Elias says. His tone is gentle, but he knows that the way he’s smiling isn’t. He can’t help it though, Jon just looks so good terrified and suffering underneath him. Jon whimpers in fear as another of Elias’ fingers starts to tease at the wound. When it pushes inside, Jon arches up against Elias, and Elias pauses. Experimentally, he rolls his hips into Jon’s. Jon lets out a broken sob, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment as he grinds against Elias. Elias grins wickedly. What has he ever done to deserve such a perfect Archivist?

“Jon,” Elias says. Jon blinks tears out of his eyes as he looks up at Elias. “Jon, would you feel better if I touched you?” For a long moment, Jon is silent save for his heavy, labored breaths. Then, ever so quietly, as if saying it hurts more than Elias’ fingers in his side do, he murmurs,

“Yes.”

Elias wastes no time unbuttoning Jon’s trousers and slipping his hand inside. He’s delighted to find that Jon is both hard and wet, and he has to stop himself from sliding his fingers into his cunt, too. He’ll do that soon enough. For now, he places his fingers on each side of Jon’s cock and starts stroking him long and slow as he works his second finger deeper into Jon’s wound. Jon’s hands fly to the front of Elias’ shirt, and Jon clings to him, gasping and trembling. Elias stills the fingers he has inside Jon once he gets the second one entirely in, but he keeps stroking Jon’s cock. He gazes down at Jon with a sort of reverence, drinking in each little detail. The way he bites down on his lip to muffle his moans, the way his stomach muscles flex in time with Elias’ movements, the way his eyes are fixed on the hand half-buried in his side. Elias is struck by a strong desire to kiss Jon, but he doesn’t. It would only scare him away. His frightened little Archivist is more comfortable in the jaws of a beast than in its loving embrace. Elias needs to work with that. He waits until Jon relaxes a bit, eyes glazing over, pleasure overwhelming the pain, before he spreads the fingers in Jon’s side.

Jon screams, again trying to pull away, again getting nothing out of the attempt save for more pain.

“ _Elias!_ ” He gasps, “Elias, this can’t be helping, you’re going to—I’ll bleed out.”

“No you won’t, Jon,” Elias says calmly. “You’ll be fine, I promise.” Elias slides two fingers into Jon’s cunt at the same time he twists the ones inside the wound, and Jon gives a lovely wail in response. Elias grinds the heel of his hand into Jon’s cock while thrusting his fingers into him. He gives the wound much the same treatment, drawing his fingers most of the way out before plunging them back in, repeating the motion over and over. Jon is crying properly now, but even through his tears, he never stops looking at his wound, watching his own blood spill from it as Elias defiles him. Jon has given up on not being vocal, expressing his suffering through all sorts of wonderfully pained gasps and little moans. Whenever Jon manages to get enough breath to actually speak, he begs. Elias notices how “ _please stop_ ” gradually just turns into “ _please_ ”, notices how Jon starts rocking his hips into Elias’ movements. Elias smiles, awed by Jon, by his Archivist. That Jon is able to enjoy such intense suffering this much—Elias couldn’t have asked for more.

“Jon.” Jon responds with an incoherent whine. “Jon, would you like to come?”

“ _Please,_ ” Jon breathes.

“Tell me what you need, Jon,” Elias says, sweetly, gently.

“Just keep—please don’t stop,” Jon says, his breath hitching on a sob.

“Never,” Elias promises. He keeps pressing into Jon in a consistent rhythm, and as he expects, it hardly takes any more time for Jon to come. He screams as his muscles spasm around the fingers in his side. Elias fucks him through it, waiting until Jon has gone limp beneath him to stop. He doesn’t withdraw his fingers, and he can feel Jon’s breathing slow back down to normal from inside him. Jon is a vision of perfection, lying still with tear tracks running down his cheeks and blood staining his side, pliant from his orgasm. The sight makes Elias greedy, and he gets an idea too cruel and wonderful to resist.

As it is, the stab wound probably won’t scar. The Archivist’s accelerated healing will erase anything that isn’t the work of an Entity, and even what Elias has already done to him probably won’t count. It’s not exactly his work. But it can be. Elias keeps a small folding knife in his pocket, something he’s found comes in handy in a variety of situations. He removes his fingers from Jon and pulls the knife from his pocket, and Jon’s eyes go wide.

“What are you doing?” Jon asks, deliciously fresh terror suffusing his voice.

“Relax, Jon. You already know I’m not going to kill you.”

“But what _are_ you—“ Jon cuts himself off with a gasp, and Elias smiles. Jon Knows. Elias crawls back, no longer pinning Jon down. Jon stays still save for lifting his hips to allow Elias to pull his trousers and underwear down. Elias locks eyes with Jon. Jon could run, they both know that. They both know just as well that he will not. Though he’s shivering with fear and his eyes are shining with tears, Jon spreads his legs as best he can.

“I’m _so_ proud of you, Jon,” Elias says before taking Jon’s cock into his mouth. He sucks gently, mindful of how sensitive Jon must still be. With his still-bloody hand, he reaches up to the wound. Jon flinches at his touch, even though it isn’t painful yet. Elias’ other hand firmly grips the knife. With his face between Jon’s legs, it’s not possible for Elias to use his physical eyes to see what he’s doing. However, there are plenty of vantage points all around his office, and he quickly finds an appropriate one. Elias holds Jon’s skin taught as he presses the knifepoint to it. Jon whimpers before screaming as Elias carves a deep line into the flesh above the stab wound. Elias feels Jon’s cock throb in his mouth as he cuts, and he sucks harder. Elias keeps working Jon’s cock as he drags his knife through the cut two, three times. Jon involuntarily writhes hard enough that Elias briefly has to use a hand to keep him in place. He gives Jon almost no time to rest before making another cut, this time below the wound. Jon watches the whole process, grinding into Elias’ mouth even as he sobs in pain.

Elias continues to lick at Jon’s cock as he admires his handiwork. Even covered in blood, the design is obvious. The cuts form an eye, the stab wound itself representing the pupil. Jon is staring at it as if it can see him back. Perhaps someday, it will be able to. Now that his hands are free, Elias slips his fingers back into Jon’s cunt and begins properly focusing on making him come again. The sweet, breathy noises Jon makes and the sight of Elias’ mark on him are made all the better by the knowledge that Jon chose this. He let Elias do this to him. He may resist, but in the end, he always comes back to where he belongs.

“Elias.” Jon’s voice is little more than a whisper. Elias looks up at Jon with his physical eyes. Jon grabs Elias’ free hand, his arm shaking as he guides it to the wounds. Elias shivers with glee when he realizes what Jon is asking him for.

Jon cries out when Elias shoves two fingers back into the wound and starts thrusting them. In a bold move, Jon grabs Elias by the hair, bucking up into his face. Elias allows it. Anything for his Archivist after he’s been so very good for him. Jon swears as he comes, Elias again stimulating him through it, this time until Jon starts pushing him away.

“That was wonderful, Jon. Well done,” Elias says. Jon can only groan in response. He must be exhausted. “We should get you bandaged up. It won’t bleed for too long, but it’s best not to just leave it like that.” Jon gives a weak nod of his head. “Good. You just stay right there, I’ll be right back.” Jon is hardly in any state to protest. He’s quiet and pliant as Elias cleans away the blood and bandages his side. The materials in the first aid kit are hardly sufficient for the severity of the wounds, but since it’s more for show than anything, Elias isn’t worried. Jon scowls as Elias hands him his bloody shirt.

“It’s ruined,” he mutters. Elias chuckles. What a thing to be concerned about.

“I’m afraid so,” Elias says.

Jon tries to stand up on his own three times, collapsing back onto the couch each time, before he lets Elias help him. They walk slowly, Jon’s arm over Elias’ shoulders, down to the cot in the Archives. Jon had made a show of objecting when Elias told him he was in no state to go back to his flat, but he couldn’t deny it was the truth. Elias gets Jon settled on the cot and pulls the blankets over him. He wishes he could stay and watch Jon fall asleep, but Jon has already accepted far more tenderness from Elias at once than Elias would have thought possible, so he decides not to push it. Instead, he just says,

“I am very impressed with you, Jon. Sleep well.”

“‘Night,” Jon grumbles back, already half asleep. Elias sighs fondly. Even only half finished, Jon is already a masterpiece. Elias can’t wait to see what he’s like when they’re done.


End file.
